Making Your Life Better
by Pickwick12
Summary: Emma Approved-verse. All about the ways Alex has taken care of Emma throughout her life. One-shot.


**A/N: Alex is eight years older than Emma here. I'm not sure what their exact age difference is supposed to be, but it worked for what I wanted to do. **

**Five Years Old**

Alex is home alone, studying for a history test, when he hears Izzy Woodhouse scream. As quickly as he can, he sprints outside and past the shrubs that line the Knightley property, coming up short and breathless and almost running straight into Izzy in the Woodhouse's front yard. She's hysterical.

"Emma—Emma fell off the swing in the back, and she hurt her ankle. I don't know what to do." She's only nine, after all, and looking after her active sister while their single father puts in long hours would be hard on anyone.

"It's ok, Izzy," Alex says, putting on his most commanding tone. "Go inside and call 911 right now. I'll stay with Emma."

He's not sure what he's going to find, but when he rounds the side of the house, he sees the younger Woodhouse leaning against the pole that holds her swingset together, crying miserably, with her leg at a funny angle.

Alex doesn't want to move her, so he sits down next to her as gently as he can and puts his arm around her. She leans into him, and he holds her until the ambulance comes.

**Ten Years Old**

It's Alex's graduation party. He's the valedictorian of his class, just like everyone expected, and for once in his life, he's the center of attention. There's only one problem: He can't find Emma. You can always find Emma Woodhouse. She's the life of everybody's party, talking to everyone, making the quiet people laugh. She's always everywhere, but suddenly she isn't anywhere, and that worries him.

Finally, he finds her, sitting on the third step of the front staircase, with her legs curled under her, crying softly into the tulle skirt of her party dress. He sits down beside her, and she looks up at him with a red face and puffy eyes.

"What's wrong, Emma?" he asks gently.

"Susie Lewis stole my boyfriend," she sobs. Sure enough, he remembers seeing a very smug-looking Susie holding the hand of a frankly scared-looking little boy just a few moments before.

"You're ten years old. Why do you even need a boyfriend?" Alex asks, shaking his head.

"It's fourth grade!" she sniffles indignantly. "Everybody has a boyfriend."

"You know something," he says, putting his arm around Emma, "it doesn't matter if everybody else has a boyfriend. You don't need one."

"Why not?" she asks, leaning into his shoulder.

"Because you're Emma Woodhouse, and that means you're perfect on your own," he answers, wishing he could protect her from ever feeling like that might not be true.

**Fifteen Years Old**

Alex is home on a break from business school. He wonders over to the Woodhouses' to see if anybody is around, but everything is quiet. He tries the front door just to make sure, and it gives. A quick poke of his head into the house finds everything dark and a single figure heaped onto the front room sofa.

"Emma?" he asks, recognizing the size and shape.

She looks up, and he sees that she's been crying, probably for a long time. "Alex, Izzy's going to leave me. John proposed, and now she's going to get married and move away."

"I know," he answers, sitting down beside her and wrapping his arm around her. "I thought you'd be ok with it. You'll still see her all the time, and you'll be, like, the queen. You'll have this whole house and all your dad's money to do whatever you want with." He's trying to cheer her up. Being snarky usually works.

"Are you sure?" she asks, snuggling against him.

"You bet," he answers. "It's going to be great."

Then, from against his shirt, "You've been working out."

"I'm glad you still have your priorities straight," he says drily.

**Twenty Years Old**

Alex spends another summer night eating dinner at the Woodhouses'. He lives in Highbury now, the position of VP at Mr. Woodhouse's flagship company a natural transition after getting his MBA, but sometimes he thinks he might want to do something different—something, dare Alex Knightley say it, a little bit _risky_.

This particular night, he breaks away from Izzy's discussion of the second trimester of pregnancy and goes out to the front porch to find Emma. She's a little more subdued these days than she was when she was a child, but it's not like her to drift away from a family party.

"Are you ok?" he asks, taking his place beside her as she leans against the porch railing and stairs out into the dusky night.

"I'm fine," she answers, wiping her eyes. When she turns to him, he can see tears glistening on her cheek. "It's just—nights like tonight are so perfect. I wish my mom was here."

"Oh, Emma, I'm so sorry," he says, putting his arm around her and cradling her head to his shoulder.

"It's fine," she says again. "I just don't remember her that well any more, and I wish I did."

"You're a lot like her," Alex says. He remembers Mrs. Woodhouse well.

"How so?" Emma asks, her voice shaky.

"She always wanted to help everybody she knew, and she made people happy just by being around them."

**Twenty-Five Years Old**

Alex finishes up his last spreadsheet and turns off his office light, basking in the glow of tasks thoroughly accomplished. Emma should be long home by now, basking in her own glow at the success of the party and the year just passed. She deserves to bask, he thinks, since they've increased happiness and earned enough profit to please even his exacting standards.

Except, when walks into the hall, he sees a light on. Emma's light. As he comes up to her door, something even more ominous greets him: The unmistakable signs of organizing. Emma Woodhouse only organizes when she's trying not to cry.

"I failed" is all it takes to tell the tale. He doesn't tell her he saw it coming. After all, only someone as kind as Emma could have seen the best in James Elton and thought it could match the best in Harriett Smith.

Alex sits down beside her. Just like before and like always, he puts his arm around her, and she leans into him. Neither of them says anything else, and nothing needs to be said. He just holds her for a long, long time, because if there's one thing Alex Knightley is good at, it's making Emma Woodhouse's life better.


End file.
